


Fever

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Cloisters [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The winter fever rages in Sho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

Fever

Our first real winter in Lufana turned out to be the coldest the city had seen in a long time, just like our first summer there had been one of the hottest. And again there was no explanation for this kind of weather. At first, the rain and drop in temperature had been welcome, but then the temperatures kept falling and the rain turned into snow. Moving around Sho without an overcoat soon became impossible, and the Doctor fretted over his garden. Firewood was fast becoming an item of luxury, and we spent most of the time in the Painted Room because, apart from the kitchen, it was the warmest place in the house. We had even moved the mattress and our bedding there.

At one point the Doctor had suggested we move inside the TARDIS for the time being, but I was reluctant to do so – it was unfair to our friends. I couldn't imagine being snug and warm, knowing that Tayar's family, as well as Giorgia and Anna, were freezing in their homes. We often had dinner together, mostly at Pagao, to save wood, and once public life came to a standstill because of the snow and the cold, having dinner changed from preparing the meals together into cooking parties. One of the few perks of the cold was that we didn't need the pot-in-pot fridges.

The Doctor introduced the whole neighbourhood to building snow people and making snow angels in the park next to Sho. Those had started out as a distraction for Anna and the twins, but the snow fights and sled-races attracted more children and adults from the surrounding homes. I had never seen the Doctor so relaxed and childlike before, and I wondered if he had ever really learned to play as a boy.

One night, when we were cuddling in our bed in front of the fireplace, I worked up enough courage to ask him. I was careful about asking him this because we had never discussed his childhood before and I had no idea if it was something We Did Not Talk About, like Gallifrey and his family.

“Of course there were games,” the Doctor said, surprised and a little offended. “We had all sorts of games.”

“But were they just for the fun of it? Like snow angels and snow fights?” I asked.

He didn't reply at once. “Well, the Time Lords were a competitive lot. And it always had to have a point, like practising certain skills or furthering your education.”

“That's sad,” I replied, stilling my hand. I had been caressing his bare chest beneath the thick duvet. “But I'm glad you had so much fun today.”

Again, he hesitated before answering. “I loved it.”

I wanted to tell him that I was looking forward to seeing him play with his own children, but I bit my lip. Despite all our attempts, I hadn't conceived yet, and I was beginning to worry. Maybe my injuries were worse than we'd thought, and we'd never be able to have children. I couldn't help thinking how much I missed Jonah. I snuggled closer to him, willing these thoughts to disappear.

“What are you thinking of, fiyolian?” he asked.

I stopped drawing idle patterns on his chest.

“Oh, Rose,” he whispered, his fingertips caressing my hairline. He turned to press a kiss right there, and we lay in silence. There were no words that would have done our feelings justice.

-:-

One night, after we'd returned from Pagao, we made love slowly, and while I love sleepy sex I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the Doctor. He was pushing his cycle but he seemed inordinately distracted, and he was very quiet as he moved beside me. We lay facing each other, our legs entangled and holding one another as closely as possible. We had thrown back the thick duvet and I watched the firelight shift on his damp skin. His forehead was beaded with glistening drops of sweat. When I kissed him he tasted strange, and his tongue was warm rather than malialion on mine.

“Doctor,” I whispered, cupping his brow with my palm, wiping the damp off. “Are you all right?”

His smile did nothing to reassure me. “Yeah, I'm just tired.”

I decided not to press him any further. “'s nice, lying here with you like this,” I said after we'd cleaned up and snuggled under the duvet. He only hummed in agreement, his eyelids already drooping. He must be truly exhausted. “Sleep, my love,” I said, kissing him gently.

The Doctor usually woke before me, even when he had been pushing his cycle badly. Most times, he'd stay in bed with me, pondering something or other or reading, but he never got up before me unless he had to; and then he always woke me with a mug of maklak. More often than not I misused him as my alarm clock.

The next morning he was still sound asleep. It was a good thing it was the weekend or else we would have overslept and been late for work. When I woke and rolled over he lay sprawled on his back. His freckles were nearly invisible on his flushed skin. His breathing was laboured and he'd thrown off the duvet although he had clung to me for warmth during the night.

“Doctor?” I sat up at once, hastily pulling on the heavy jumper I kept by the bed instead of a robe. The fire had gone out sometime in the wee hours.

He didn't even stir. I touched his forehead and cheek with the backs of my fingers. Just like the night before he felt unusually hot; even if he'd been human his temperature wouldn't have felt normal. He must be running a very high fever. I cursed myself for not pressing him any further.

“Doctor!” I said, patting his damp cheeks to rouse him. But he was so withdrawn that nothing I could do would help. “Doctor, I'll just... I'll be back in a minute, yeah?”

The cold outside the Painted Room was like a slap in the face; although I had slipped on my boots I had done without my coat. There were so many things to do. Get the fire started again. Bring lots of water for him to drink. Clean him up and make him comfortable. Read up on Gallifreyan diseases in the TARDIS library. Have a bite and a wash.

I accomplished all these things leaving a flurry of snowflakes in my wake as I hurried from the bathroom to the corner room and from there to the kitchen. I had brought a bowl of water and some towels with which I washed the Doctor. He was lying very still after having shivered during the night. I hadn't slept well but I hadn't been awake enough to take care of him earlier. I tried to rouse him, but he only managed to open his eyes once to acknowledge me. He was, however, able to drink some water with my support, even though some of it dribbled down his chin in the process.

“I...” I wanted to say that I had no idea of what I was supposed to do, but bit my lip. Admitting my helplessness to him wouldn't be very reassuring for either of us. “I'll... don't worry.”

He didn't react; apparently, he'd already fallen back into a daze.

I picked up the book on Gallifreyan medicine, but just as I was about to open it to the index I set it back down. Somehow I knew that I wouldn't find an answer in there. It was obvious that he was running a very high fever. The best thing would be to make him drink a lot – that's what Mum had always done when I was ill – and to cool him down. Fast. I remembered watching some medical drama on the telly with a similar scenario; they had cooled the person down with ice. Well, there was plenty of snow outside. Running my fingers through his damp hair I stood. And froze. A pair of Ruulim words suddenly took shape in my mind and I shivered.

Winter Fever.

-:-

I had always thought that if one of us caught the winter fever it would be me. Dazed, I spread towels on the freezing tiles in the cloister and filled them with snow so I could fold them up and use them as compresses. Mum had always wrapped damp towels around my calves, and I would do the same to the Doctor. I'd wrap them around his calves and the pulse points on his wrists and neck. My fingers were icy and numb by the time I returned to our bed in the Painted Room.

The Doctor lay unmoving, the thin sheet I had wrapped around him was soaked. I removed it and covered his limbs and neck with the compresses, and because one was left over, I put that on his groin. The snow melted quickly but at least the towels would soak up the water and keep the cold for a while. His eyes fluttered open at the shock, but he smiled. “That's... good,” he said, his words so soft I nearly didn't catch them.

I returned the smile, dabbing sweat from his face. “I thought you might like it. What about some more water?”

The Doctor nodded, and I moved to support his head as I helped him drink in short sips. “So... hot,” he mumbled as I wiped the water from his jaw.

“Yes, I know. But we have snow,” I said, dipping my hand into the bowl of snow. The fire hadn't really started again so I left it the way it was, thinking that he might be more comfortable in a cool room. I had bundled up against the chill, but I would light the fire as soon as I could see my breath. Getting ill myself wouldn't do either of us any good. I brought up a handful of snow and touched his cheek with it. The snow melted almost instantly and I rubbed it into his skin, all over his face. He sighed.

“I'm... gar'ngun... sham gar'ngun,” he mumbled.

“Don't. It's okay. I'm here for you,” I said. “Is there anything I can get you? Anything special I need to know about fever and Gallifreyans?” Sometimes I hated that he was an alien; it was moments like this when the fact that he was so very different from anything I knew was overwhelmingly obvious. Being helpless was not something I was used to, and it scared me more than anything. Even standing up to Daleks and fighting Cybermen was better than having to deal with a Gallifreyan who was running a fever that was high enough to be dangerous for humans too.

He swallowed hard before answering me. “Cool... more... malfan... Tromalfan... please...” His dark eyes were glassy and he'd somehow mustered enough strength to take my hand.

“Cold? Very cold?” I asked.

Closing his eyes, he nodded. Keeping him cold. I could do that.

“What about medicine?” Aspirin, I knew, would be an absolute disaster.

“Winter... Fever?” he panted.

I nodded. “I think so.” I let him have some more water.

“Anything... just... anything. Don't... don't let me go,” he mumbled. The fever was stronger than his willpower.

“I won't,” I said gently and bent to kiss his damp brow. “I won't let you go.” He'd already lost consciousness again and I had no idea if he'd heard my reassurance. I hoped, however, that some of the things I told him would eventually sink in and that he would know, that he would understand what I was telling him, what was happening.

I spent the morning changing the compresses and making him drink whenever he woke. I tried not to dwell too much on the fact that he was suffering from the winter fever. Yoru and Fenia's family had died from it, and anything else I knew revolved around isolation and meticulous hygiene. If there was medicine to treat the fever I hadn't heard of it.

Lunchtime came and went and the fever showed no sign of breaking. My fingers were blue and numb from the cold and neither tea nor a hot water bottle nor my warmest gloves could warm them. At one point I was so desperate I put them on the Doctor's chest. He jerked briefly but his expression relaxed and I was glad for some of his warmth seeping into me.

I kept talking to him, reassuring him. I was so engrossed in caring for him that I nearly didn't hear the doorbell. Fenia had wanted to drop off the children for an afternoon of play while she took part in an important meeting up at the Observatory. How could I have forgotten that? How would I explain to her what was going on without panicking her? The Doctor and I had spent the entire previous afternoon and night with her and the children. The Doctor would never forgive himself if he'd given the winter fever to them on top of the grief he'd brought over them.

When I opened the door slightly I could see it was Tayar, and he was alone. “Tayar,” I squeaked.

He looked at me hard. “What's wrong, Rose?” he asked eventually. While I usually liked his quiet and calm ways, now they unnerved me.

“The Doctor... he's ill. I think... I think it's the Winter Fever,” I said.

Tayar didn't say anything for a long moment. “I'll take care of things. You don't worry about anything, Rose,” he said.

“But the children...”

“We'll manage. Don't worry, Rose. We'll help you. Just answer the door when we come, do you hear me?”

It was no secret that Tayar didn't think much of isolating patients, particularly if they were family. Despite everything that had happened the Doctor and I were family just like Yoru. To him his wife was the best proof that winter fever was not contagious, and he'd done some research that proved his point. But since he was only a librarian and not a physician, no one really listened to him. Apart from the Doctor, Fenia, and me.

“Yeah,” I said, “Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” he said. “Now, have you eaten?”

Surprised, I shook my head.

“You need to take care of yourself as well, Rose. Eat something. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

I gave him the spare set of keys to Sho; it was something which we should have done a long time ago. Tayar accepted it, looking at me in surprise. “It's easier this way. B'aruu, Tayar.”

-:-

Tayar was back in what seemed to be no time. I had barely finished my meal of leftovers when he stepped into our kitchen with some dried and fresh herbs.

“They might not work on the Doctor,” I said. “His system is entirely different from yours. Or mine.”

“Still,” Tayar said, “He caught the winter fever. Who says the medicine won't work on him?”

“I... he's allergic to a very common medicine where I'm from,” I replied. “I don't want him to get worse.”

Tayar nodded, calmly unpacking the herbs. “It's just tea,” he said after a while. “We'll give him a little of it first to see if it's dangerous to him.”

It was either that or doing nothing at all apart from trying to cool him down. I nodded. “Let's try it.”

Before Tayar made the tea, however, he offered to help me carry the Doctor out into the garden to cover his whole body in snow. I was a bit embarrassed on the Doctor's behalf because I hadn't bothered to make him decent, but Tayar ignored the Doctor's nakedness. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, after all; the Doctor had become quite fond of Pagao's steam bath, and that was a place you visited naked. Maybe it was just me. Nakedness and vulnerability were closely linked in my book, and I didn't want Tayar to see the Doctor like this. Not when Tayar looked up to the Doctor the way he did. Or maybe, I tried to reassure myself as I grabbed the backs of his knees, it helped make the Doctor seem more 'human'.

The Doctor woke with a gasp when we lowered him into the snow in the garden. There was hardly a pristine spot of snow from all the games he had played with the children. We lay him down in the mould of one of the snow angels and heaped snow upon him. He squeaked briefly, and we liberated him after a few minutes to take him back to the Painted Room. It wouldn't do to compound the problem with pneumonia.

“Thank you,” he whispered as I wrapped him in a sheet.

“Tayar is here, and he'd like to try something. It's some kind of tea. Is that all right?” I told him.

The Doctor closed and opened his eyes before he answered. This little gesture sent shivers of panic down my spine because I was terrified of losing him, that he wouldn't open his eyes again. “Soki,” he said. “Anything. Don't... let me go.”

I bit my lip and caressed his cheek. “I won't.”

I gave him something to drink and sat with him as we waited for Tayar to brew the tea. The Doctor watched me as I renewed the compresses and I felt a little unnerved by his scrutiny. I tried to smile, but then I couldn't stop myself. “Stop it.”

“Can't,” he simply said. With some effort he freed his hand and lifted it to touch my arm, making the compress slide off. His fingers were very hot as I took his hand and held it between mine. “'s... nice. Cold.”

“I'd love to be able to feel my fingers again,” I said, only realising what I had said when it was too late. I didn't want to make him feel guilty on top of everything else. “Sorry.”

“Tri tu miras’tu.”

I laughed, and he smiled. I bent to kiss him on the lips, hoping that he was finally beginning to feel better. “I love you,” I said when I rose.

An embarrassed cough from the door made me turn around. Tayar was standing there, holding a tray of steaming mugs. He put it down on the Doctor's desk and took two of the mugs, one of which he gave me, the other he set on the floor next to the mattress. “Hello, Doctor,” he said, kneeling.

The Doctor smiled wearily. His little trip into the snow had been more exhausting than we'd thought.

“I'd like to try something,” he gestured for me to help the Doctor drink the tea he'd given me. It smelled nothing at all like I had imagined it, but like a summer meadow after a downpour. As the Doctor carefully sipped at the hot beverage, Tayar continued. “If you don't show a reaction within the next hour, you'll get more of it. I've read about it somewhere, and it's not used very often.”

The Doctor nodded between sips. Tayar took the mug from me when he thought the Doctor had had enough. “I've brought you some maklak,” he said, pointing at the mug non the floor. After I had made the Doctor comfortable, I picked it up eagerly, wrapping my cold fingers around the warm ceramic. The Doctor stilled and closed his eyes.

Tayar made me rest and enjoy my maklak as he cleaned up the mess around the bed a little and started the fire. I kept my eyes on the Doctor, nervous, watching out for any signs of an allergic reaction. But he seemed more relaxed than he had all morning, and eventually Tayar deemed it safe to give him more of the tea when he woke.

“Winter Fever is intermittent; he might be fine later tonight and tomorrow, but if it's anything like with us Ruulim, the fever will be back the day after tomorrow,” Tayar explained. “Make sure he gets lots of rest tomorrow, and make him eat even if he doesn't feel like it. He'll need to be strong. As will you, by the way.”

“Is... is he going to die? Will the fever make him regenerate?” I asked.

“I don't know, Rose. He's so different from us,” Tayar said. “But if he survives it he'll be immune to it forever.”

I nodded, thanking him. “Where are the children?”

“I'll look after them. I've cancelled my appointment,” he said, winking. “Giorgia will look in on you from time to time and bring you some food and wood. And to make tea. Is it okay if I give her the key?”

“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much, Tayar.”

-:-

Just like Tayar had predicted did the Doctor's fever come down later that afternoon. I made him finish his tea all the same and helped him put on his pyjamas. By the next morning his temperature had returned to normal, and his skin was once more pale and malialion. I did not allow myself any feeling of relief, however. While I was glad that this first bout was over, I dreaded the next one to come.

“I'd love a bath,” the Doctor said as we lay side by side, snuggling beneath the duvet. “I feel more than manky.”

“What about a shower? You'll be exhausted by the time we've made it to the bathroom,” I suggested, smoothing my palm against his breastbone, where I could feel the regular thump-thump of his hearts.

The Doctor scoffed, but by the time we reached the bathroom he sat heavily on the stool, soaked in sweat. I peeled the t-shirt and pyjama bottoms off him, undressed myself and stepped under the shower with him. He leaned heavily against the wall and into me when he had to, but despite his exhaustion he kept saying how much better he felt now that he was clean again. Once we were done, he sat on the stool again to wait for me to finish.

“Rose... I'd like to shave, but I... I can't. Would you... would you do it for me? Please?”

A pleasant shiver ran down my spine. He had never allowed me to touch his razor before, preferring to guide the sharp blade over his skin himself. His movements were easy and practised, but I never for one moment doubted that it was as easy as it looked. He trusted me with his life, but this was something different. I nodded.

Following his instructions, I whipped the shaving cream to a froth in its little bowl and lathered his day-old stubble with it. As I picked up the razor and opened the blade I tried to consider its weight as something comforting rather than something daunting. I did shave my legs, after all, and I had an idea of how careful you had to be, even with the safety razors I used.

“You'll be fine. Just let gravity do the work for you,” he said, meeting my eyes. He reached up to cup my cheek. I turned in his caress and pressed a kiss to his palm, then plucked it off my cheek and set to work.

Soon enough I got the knack of shaving him, but still I couldn't help nicking his skin once. I blushed furiously and tried to dab the red beads away, but the Doctor only chuckled. When we were done he ran his fingers over his smooth skin in appreciation. It had taken me ages, but at least I'd done a thorough job. I kissed his cheek.

Making him rest was less of a problem than making him eat. He was very weak, and he collapsed onto his love seat in the cramped Painted Room after he'd put on a couple of shirts and a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms. He tried to read, but when I returned from the kitchen with some soup and bread, he'd nodded off and I had to wake him.

“I'm not hungry, Rose,” he protested as I perched on the love seat and held out the bowl for him.

“Humour me,” I said. I was playing dirty. Since I hardly ever asked him for anything he couldn't refuse me now.

He sighed and ate slowly, but in the end he mopped up the rest of the creamy soup with a piece of bread.

-:-

By the time we went to bed, he had begun to shiver violently, and by the next morning his fever was back. Giorgia and Tayar dropped in, just like he had promised, and made some more tea and gave me some time to rest and take care of myself. We took the Doctor outside again to cool down his entire body.

“His fever is higher than it was the first time,” Tayar said softly, worry carving deep lines into his brow.

Something inside me froze. He couldn't die. I wouldn't allow it. By the time Tayar and Giorgia had to leave, the Doctor was unconscious, and it took much longer for his fever to break than it had the first time. He was weaker than before and he didn't bother with a shower and a shave in the morning. A sponge bath had to do, and he downright refused his meal when I settled with it on the edge of the mattress.

“Please, Doctor, you have to eat something.”

He merely shook his head and fell asleep. I couldn't rouse him again, and in my frustration I hurled the filled plate across the room and dissolved into tears.

-:-

“How are you feeling, Rose?” Giorgia asked when she came to make tea for the third time. I hadn't slept properly, trying to comfort the violently shivering Time Lord with my body until he began to be hot and I had to wrestle the clothes off him.

“Tired.”

“But... you're not feeling under the weather?” Giorgia asked, passing me a second mug of maklak.

I shook my head. “Jus'... tired,” I sighed.

“That's... I'm sorry to hear that, but it's good news,” she said, and it was her excitement that encouraged me a little.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it means you won't get it. Tayar told me Fenia took care of her mother and never showed any symptoms, so maybe you're lucky as well. Or you're immune, because you're human,” she said.

I nodded, smiling. It was good news.

But I wanted the Doctor back, and in his skinny, freckled, chocolate-eyed, excited-hedgehog hair version.

-:-

On the morning of the fifth night his temperature was so high that his breathing became even more laboured and his hearts started skipping beats. There was no way I could make him drink anything, no matter how desperately he needed fluids in him. In my terror I straddled him and began to rub both sides of his chest hard, his chest hair rough against my palms. I had no idea if anything I was doing was any help, but I couldn't just sit by and do nothing.

I brought in more and more snow to cool him down, and I even rolled him off the mattress so he lay on the cold, hard tiles and buried him under the snow. His skin was an angry red against the white blanket of snow that gathered in puddles around him. I was soaked and cold and tired, and eventually I sat with my back against the wall, and cried.

“Please don't go, Doctor,” I whispered. There was such a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't even sob. “Please don't leave me alone.”

I wondered if some evil fairy godmother had cursed me at my Christening, if I had to lose all the men I loved. Or was this some trickery of the universe, of Time, that my losing the men I loved were fixed points in time that couldn't, mustn't be changed? Dad had died in my arms, and my first Doctor. Yoru, who'd been the brother I never had. Then Jonah, and now my second Doctor.

“Rose...”

My head snapped up and I scrambled to where the Doctor lay naked on the bare stone floor. “I'm here, Doctor,” I said, my voice hitching in my throat. “I'm here.” I grabbed a towel and started to dry him off gently.

“Rose... ngudia sam... sham gar'ngun...”

I shushed him with my fingertips on his lips. “I'm here, don't speak.”

He swallowed hard and I drizzled some water onto his cracked lips. “Lyansu'ra, rovalionn ti, lyansu'ra... ngudia sam.”

“Don't, Doctor, don't go,” I begged him, wiping the tears off my face. He had mustered the last of his strength to speak to me, so I couldn't refuse him. I leaned down and kissed him. His lips were rough against mine but I pressed harder and even swiped my tongue over his lips. To my surprise, he opened his mouth and allowed me in, but he was too weak to return the gesture. I cupped his hot, stubbly cheek with my palm. “I love you, Doctor.”

His body went limp beneath me.

-:-

When I regained my senses I had no idea where I was. The tip of my nose was cold, but under the thick duvet and blanket I felt warm and comfortable. The Doctor had put his arms around me and pulled me close to him. I sighed comfortably, keeping my eyes closed for a moment to hold on to the memory of lying in the Doctor's arms – it was amazing how real the wonderful dream felt. My eyes flickered open, and it took me a while to take in my surroundings and recognise them as my old bedroom in Sho. There was no fire in the hearth.

“How are you feeling?”

I stiffened at the Doctor's voice. Was I still dreaming?

But then the mattress dipped as he moved and shifted. No dream had ever been that vivid – apart from the erotic ones, that is.

“Rested. Hollow,” I replied softly. My back felt cold now that the Doctor was gone. Today started the rest of my life without him, and I started it with a very realistic dream and talking to myself. He had died and been so sick that he had been unable to regenerate. Or unwilling, but I shoved that thought back to where it had come from, the darkest part of my mind.

“Rose? Rose what's wrong?” He made me roll onto my back, but I kept my eyes firmly shut although by opening them I would have been able to banish the dream to the place I had just sent that most unwelcome thought.

“Rose, look at me.”

I opened my eyes.

The Doctor was sitting on the bed next to me, my very skinny, freckled, chocolate-eyed, excited-hedgehog-haired Doctor. He was sporting his pyjamas and a long-sleeved shirt and socks, several days' worth of stubble and the worst bed-head I'd ever seen, even on him. But it was definitely the Doctor.

“But... you didn't... I mean... you...” I began. This dream was something completely new. Or was it still a dream?

“Rose. Rose, I'm here, it's me. The Doctor, rude and not ginger. Your... ngudia sam,” he said, realising that I did not comprehend what was going on.

“I was a bit lonely... in the Painted Room,” he said softly. “So I thought... well, you'd like some company... You don't like sleeping alone, and I thought,” he explained.

“I'm sorry, I... I thought you were...” I mumbled, holding him tight.

“Nah, not me, not over some... stupid little fever. I went into a healing coma when I couldn't bear it any longer. I thought you'd know because of our first Christmas,” he said.

“You'd regenerated before that, and I... I...”

He nodded. “Oh, Rose. I'm sorry I scared you. It looks like I'm dead, but I'm not. It helps me heal myself and prevents me from regenerating. Tayar and Giorgia found us, and they brought you here so you could get some rest. You were so exhausted and... and... they couldn't rouse you,” the Doctor said. He looked much better, but he couldn't babble away the signs the winter fever had left on his body. He was ghostly pale and he looked thinner than usual in his jimjams. I reached out and rested my hand on his breastbone, seeking the security of his double heartbeat. It was there, a bit fast because he was more nervous than he would let on, but he felt solid and malialion and right.

“You're going to be all right?” I asked. “You won't wake with another crisis tomorrow?”

He smiled. “I broke the rhythm, I should be fine.”

I closed my eyes in relief. How could I have let go of him so quickly, accept his death so readily? Tears of shame began to trickle down my cheeks.

“Nyasan'sa sam, Rose,” the Doctor said. “Don't cry. I'm here.”

-:-

The next day the snow began to melt as temperatures rose to their usual levels for a Ruulim winter.

(End)


End file.
